Released to my miseries

This evening I had my first official cry.

I was driving through downtown en route home from selling my books at Powell's and eating a solo dinner at Clyde Common when I came face-to-face with the fact that quite soon those streets would no longer be mine.

It didn't help that Broken Social Scene was playing and all I could think about were the words, "now you're long gone, got your make up on and you're not coming back, don't you come back."

Saccharine as it may sound I feel like I'm losing a part of myself in abandoning this concrete village. I spent so many childhood nights desperately wishing to be a part of whatever was happening a midnight in a place where buildings had more than four floors.
Having lived here now for the last three and a half years I couldn't say when it was that I finally realized I belonged here, I was a member. Even so, it happened and it mattered and now I'm intentionally walking away from that.

Yes, this journey is necessary, these changes rich and beautiful.
But I will still hearken back to this berth whenever my mind takes me to that dark place that says I am no one.

Now with fewer pages to carry and fewer days to wait I am preparing myself for the inimitable jolt that will be the first firing of that passenger jet engine. And for all of the new tears.